


Mothers, be good to your daughters

by alettepegasus



Series: Post-Redemption Catra [6]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Redeemed Catra, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, apparently there's nothing in the Catra and Angella tag yet, but by gosh this sad cat needs a mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-02-08 18:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18628927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alettepegasus/pseuds/alettepegasus
Summary: “It's all right to be sad, Catra,” Angella said. “Shadow Weaver did terrible things, things you never deserved--but she was an important part of your life. It's normal to grieve such a loss.”Silence.“You were alike in many ways, you know,” Angella said a moment later.Catra scoffed, and it sounded wet. “I thought you were trying to make me feel better.”---Shadow Weaver is gone. Catra doesn't quite know how she feels about it.---SURPRISE, Chapter 2! Adora finds out about Shadow Weaver's death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, Catra in season 2 episode 6 broke my heart. This sad cat needs a healthy parental figure, _stat._
> 
> Big thanks to the lovely [Book_freak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_freak) and [Veilder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veilder) for betaing!

Angella walked the silent halls of the castle, her steps illuminated only by moonlight and the faint glow of her wings. In a sense, it really wasn’t fair, she mused. An immortal being who couldn’t sleep? She would give nearly anything for that sweet reprieve, a way to skip over a few scant hours of eternity. But sleep eluded her, as always, and the regrets of the past and her fears for the future did not.

 

So she walked.

 

A dark figure caught her eye as she passed an open door to one of the castle’s many balconies. She backtracked, approaching the archway. The figure was small, lithe, and topped with an unruly mane of hair, leaning against the wall of the balcony and staring out across the moonlit woods beyond. A familiar figure, these days, but the stillness--that was new.

 

“Catra?” Angella called quietly, though she suspected Catra had detected her near-silent footsteps long before she spoke. The figure’s head turned, and the thin glow of a thoroughly unsurprised blue eye confirmed her suspicions before turning back to the silent woods.

 

“Hey.”

 

The corner of Angella’s mouth quirked upward. Catra’s casual disregard for her authority was a far cry from the way Adora had literally and figuratively fallen over herself in her attempts at propriety during her first days at Bright Moon.

 

Angella found herself not caring in the slightest.

 

There was a strange tenseness to her stance. A small piece of ragged paper caught Angella’s eye as she approached, held loosely in Catra’s hand where it rested on the balcony wall. The paper appeared to have been crumpled and smoothed repeatedly.

 

“Long patrol?” Angell asked, conversationally. She would hear Catra’s report in the morning, as usual, but clearly… something… needed to be addressed before then.

 

“Yes. No,” Catra amended her automatic response. She sighed. “It was typical.”

 

“Mm.”

 

Angella waited.

 

Catra’s hand clenched around the paper, crumpling it further, then relaxed.

 

“Shadow Weaver is dead.”

 

Ah.

 

Angella swallowed against the familiar, cold emptiness those words brought. Shadow Weaver. Light Spinner. Another person from her past she could have helped, perhaps even saved, if only she had been more observant. Another failure. Another loss. She shook her head, collecting her thoughts and carefully pushing them aside.

 

Right now, her attention was needed elsewhere.

 

“I see,” she responded. “How far has the news spread?”

 

“Aside from our spy network? I doubt anyone else knows. It was quiet, apparently. Just Hordak cleaning up another one of his messes.” The paper twisted in her fingers again.

 

“I will need to share this news in tomorrow’s meeting,” Angella said, carefully. “Does Adora…?”

 

“I'll tell her in the morning,” Catra said, tiredly. “I don't know how she'll feel about it.” She scoffed. “I don't know how _I_ feel about it.”

 

Angella stood, silent.

 

“I can't believe she's actually gone.” The words were delivered in a strange tone, thick with an unnamed emotion.

 

“It's all right to be sad, Catra.” A laugh interrupted her words.

 

“Sad? I’m not sad! I should be happy the old witch is gone!” For a moment, Angella wondered if the girl was speaking to her, or to herself. Catra’s words continued to flow, as though a dam had been broken.

 

“Why should I miss someone who was never _once_ nice to me? She could be nice to Adora, sure, telling her what a great leader she’d be someday, smoothing her hair back all gentle--you know what she did with me?” Her words were punctuated with sweeping gestures, an almost wild look in her eyes. “She threatened to kill me when I was four. Four! Who does that? She used her restraining magic on me all the time, couldn't even bring herself to _touch_ me unless it was to hit me—except for one time,” she was pacing now, index finger upraised to drive her point home, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. “The one, single time when I thought I had finally earned her respect, and she _used_ me.” Her voice broke, and Angella’s heart broke with it. “It was all a lie. She was a terrible person and I should be _glad_ she's gone.”

 

Catra stood a moment, catching her breath from the emotion of her outburst.

 

“I don't even know why I'm telling you this,” Catra muttered, dropping her elbows to the wall of the balcony and leaning against it in a way that belied exhaustion beyond the physical.

 

Another silence, broken only by the distant rustling of wind in the trees.

 

“You still can't touch Adora's hair when she's half-asleep without her freaking out,” Catra finally said, softer. “Did you know that?”

 

Angella did not. She added it to the long list of things that she would contemplate later, in the hours she spent not sleeping.

 

“Even her _approval_ messed us up so much, and yet it's all I ever wanted.” Catra laughed; a short, bitter thing. “I must be an idiot.”

 

“No,” Angella said firmly. Catra looked up in mild surprise. “No,” she repeated, more gently. “How could you not desire the approval of the only mother you'd ever known?”

 

Catra’s gaze dropped.

 

“I shouldn't,” she whispered. “I should be happy she's gone.”

 

Angella stepped closer. “But you aren’t.” Catra turned away from her, silent, briefly bringing the back of her hand to her face and roughly dragging it across her eyes.

 

“It's all right to be sad, Catra,” she repeated. “Shadow Weaver did terrible things, things you _never_ deserved--but she was an important part of your life. It's normal to grieve such a loss.”

 

Silence.

 

“You were alike in many ways, you know,” Angella said a moment later.

 

Catra scoffed, and it sounded wet. “I thought you were trying to make me feel better.”

 

“I said many, not all. She was driven. Intelligent. Determined. As for her other, less desirable qualities, you have accomplished what all good mothers wish for their children: you have grown beyond them. Become the best version of themselves, the one they could never attain.”

 

“I don't believe you.” Her voice was unsteady in the dark.

 

“It’s the truth. And truth remains, whether you believe it or not,” Angella said simply.

 

Catra’s gaze was fixed on the ground, and for a moment all Angella could see was her own daughter standing before her, broken and hurting. Without thinking, she raised a hand and gently pushed back some of Catra’s hair from her face before resting her palm against the side of her face.

 

Catra froze to stone under her touch. Slowly, mechanically, her head raised.

 

“What do you want,” she demanded, all traces of her former vulnerability replaced with a cold, hard stare. Angella dropped her hand away, silently cursing herself for not remembering how the only soft touch Catra had known from her parental figure had been a manipulative lie.

 

“Nothing,” she said, too quickly. “I’m sorry.”

 

A moment passed as something coalesced in her mind, and she spoke again.

 

“No, you’re right,” she said firmly. “I do want something.”

 

Catra’s eyes held a heartbreaking mixture of disappointment, resignation, anger. The look of someone who knew what was coming, but had hoped, however faintly, they would be wrong.

 

“I want you to know that it was never your fault.” The anger faded from Catra’s face, replaced by confusion. “You were a child, and you never deserved what was done to you.”

 

Catra’s lips parted, but Angella forged on. “I want you to know that you’re good enough, smart enough, strong enough. That you always have been. That _you…_ you are enough.”

 

Confusion gave way to shock, then disbelief, and Catra spun her back to Angella too late to hide the tears spilling from her eyes. Her fists reflexively clenched and unclenched at her sides.

 

“Shut up.” Her voice was cracked, fragile.

 

Angella thought of how Scorpia and Entrapta deserted with Catra when she left the Horde--not so much because they wanted to leave the Horde, but because they refused to leave her. She thought of Bow and Glimmer and how, despite their near-daily complaints and protestations about Catra’s behavior, they had been practically frantic when she was briefly captured by a Horde patrol a few weeks ago. Thought of Adora, and of the warmth she herself had felt steadily growing for this angry, damaged girl who hid so much and cared so deeply.

 

Slowly, gently, she reached out and rested her hand on Catra’s shoulder, feeling her tense under the touch.

 

“I want you to know you are loved.”

 

There was a long silence while Catra stood, trembling and shaking under Angella’s hand with the force of holding herself together, not even breathing. When she finally drew a breath, it came as a sharp sob wrenching its way out of her throat--followed by another, then another as she sank to the ground. Angella followed, listening to her cries with an aching heart before she finally risked putting an arm across Catra’s shoulders.

 

“Oh, child,” she whispered.

 

To her great surprise, Catra suddenly spun in place, wrapping her arms around Angella in a vice-like grip and firmly planting her damp face in her shoulder as she continued to cry. Frozen only momentarily, Angella brought up her arms up to wrap them gently around her shaking frame, cocooning them both in the soft, iridescent glow of her wings. A memory came to her of Glimmer, not long after Micah’s death, as she started to rub slow, gentle circles on Catra’s back.

 

“Shh,” she murmured. “It’s all right.”

 

Eventually, her wracking cries faded to hiccuping breaths, and her grip loosened. Angella loosened her grip in return, allowing Catra to pull a short distance away. She wiped her forearm across her face before pulling her knees to her chest.

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

 

Angella offered her a handkerchief, which she accepted without making eye contact. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

 

Another silence. Angella knew she didn’t believe her words, but it was all right. She would repeat them as many times as necessary.

 

Catra looked at the iridescent wing that was still wrapped loosely around her back.

 

“You know, I used to think you were some enormous, disgusting winged monster?” Catra smiled sheepishly. “The Horde wasn’t exactly flattering with their propaganda.”

 

Angella laughed softly. “Opinions can change. After all, I wasn’t your biggest fan when you tried to shoot the Moonstone while I was standing under it.”

 

Catra gave a stuffy, wincing laugh. “Yeah… sorry about that.”

 

Angella’s wing tightened briefly around Catra, brushing her shoulder. “It’s in the past,” Angella said gently. “I trust you now.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

 

“Maybe I should.”

 

Catra’s mouth opened, then closed. Angella saw her brow crease in the dark as her jaw muscles worked, like she was trying to force words out that wouldn’t come. She laid a hand gently on Catra’s arm.

 

“It’s all right,” she said. “You don’t have to say it. Trust comes when it comes.”

 

Angella’s wing remained gently curled around Catra’s shoulders, shielding her from the occasional cool breeze. They sat that way for some time, side by side, lost in their own thoughts and a silence that was strangely comfortable.

 

A sudden thought came to Angella, and she pulled her wing back instinctively. “Do you wish for me to depart? Glimmer often has to remind me that I can sometimes… overstay my welcome.”

 

Catra looked startled, glancing back with almost a hurt expression at the wing that now hovered a respectful distance behind her.

 

“What? No, it’s fine, I--” Catra stammered, flushing slightly and averting her gaze at this unfamiliar vulnerability. “...I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

 

 _Oh. Of course._ Angella gently replaced the wing around Catra’s back, noting the soft sigh the girl gave when she did so.

 

Angella hummed. In the distance, the deep indigo of the night sky began to fade purple with the barest tinge of morning light.

 

“Neither do I.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Daughters will love like you do_   
>  _Girls become lovers who turn into mothers_   
>  _So mothers be good to your daughters, too_
> 
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>  
> 
> Fun fact: the working title for this fic was "Ding dong, the witch is dead"
> 
> This sad cat needs a mom, okay, and if the show isn't gong to give her one I'LL DO IT MYSELF
> 
> Thanks for reading!! As always, let me know if you liked it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adora finds out about Shadow Weaver's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, I wrote a second chapter! (I'm as surprised as you.) I had a half-baked idea to to write a second chapter where Adora found out about Shadow Weaver's death too, but you can thank (or blame?) UnsolvedRubixsCube for making it a reality with their comment on the last chapter. So.... here ya go!

A small sound, like a rustling and a light scrape against stone woke Adora with a start, and she shot upright as her fingers closed on the hilt of the dagger underneath her pillow. She relaxed when her bleary eyes made out the shape of the figure now seated on the ledge of her balcony, one leg pulled up near her chest and the other swinging lazily.

 

Catra glanced down to the dagger in Adora’s hand, eyebrow arched as a smirk formed on her lips. “Hey, Adora.”

 

Adora dropped the dagger with a fond but exasperated sigh.

 

“You do know I have a door, right?”

 

“Aw, but I get so nostalgic when you threaten to stab me.”

 

Adora flopped backward, one arm flung over her eyes. “Catraaa. It’s too early for this.”

 

A soft sound as Catra jumped down the from the balcony. “You’re getting soft,” she teased. “The morning moon's been up for half an hour.”

 

Adora groan-mumbled something about the moon not having to train with five bull-hybrids for six hours yesterday, appreciating the slight chuckle that brought from Catra. That was good. Something had sounded a little… off in Catra’s tone today. The bed dipped slightly as she sat down.

 

“You’re back late from your patrol,” Adora observed. “What’d you do, find a good tree to nap in and oversleep?”

 

There was a silence, and Adora propped herself up on her elbows, nudging Catra with her foot through the blanket. “What, no witty comeback?” At this closer distance, Adora finally noticed the slight redness around Catra’s eyes, the exhausted slump of her shoulders. All humor dropped and she immediately sat up straighter, reaching a hand toward Catra’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

 

“Yeah. No, I--” there was a breathy, humorless laugh followed by a shaky inhale.

 

“Shadow Weaver’s dead.”

 

Oh.

 

Oh. Okay.

 

Adora braced herself for a rush of emotions, unsure what was to come--relief? Happiness? Anger? Guilt?--and waited. And waited.

 

And felt…nothing.

 

She shook her head, pulling her feet out from under the blankets and sliding next to where Catra sat on the bed. She could worry about her malfunctioning emotions later.

 

“Are you okay? I know how horrible she was to you, but… I know she meant something to you, too.”

 

Catra scoffed, turning her head away. “Don’t you act all perceptive on me now. I know how stupid you are.”

 

“You literally _told_ me, you idiot,” Adora replied, gently returning the playful jibe. It was true. Part of the long, slow journey toward their reconciliation had involved conversations that stretched long into the small hours of the morning, the kind of communication that had been so desperately needed and sorely lacking for such a long time. Some of the things Adora learned made her shake with anger or nearly drown in guilt, but Catra was there, telling her it was over now, they were kids, she didn’t blame her anymore.

 

Adora took in the dark circles under Catra’s eyes, the slight puffiness around them.

 

“Really, are you okay?” she insisted. Catra heaved a long-suffering sigh.

 

“Yeah, I think so.” She flopped backward onto the blankets, eyes closed. “Or I will be.”

 

Adora opened her mouth to speak, but Catra’s eyes darted to hers in a warning gaze. _Not now. Please._

 

Adora shut her mouth and obliged.

 

“What about you?” Catra asked a moment later, still horizontal. “You’re probably the only person she came close to really caring about.” Most of the bitterness had faded from the words, but a hint of it still lingered. “Are _you_ okay?”

 

“Yeah.” The words came quickly, and Catra’s eyes narrowed in response. “Yeah,” Adora repeated, more slowly. “I think… I stopped caring about what she thought when I realized how much she manipulated me. And then after I realized what she had done to you for all those years, it was hard to feel anything toward her except hate.” She looked at Catra. “I think I’m okay. Really.”

 

Catra raised an eyebrow, but didn’t reply.

 

“Okay,” she said, a moment later, reluctantly pulling herself up off the bed.

 

“Come on. We’ve got a meeting to go to.”

 

*

 

Angella folded her hands and rested them on the table, mentally reviewing the meeting’s agenda--and its newest, most significant addendum. The last attendees of the meeting filtered in, Catra and Adora among them. She gave the pair an appraising glance. Adora seemed… fine. Normal. Either the news hadn’t affected her as deeply as it had Catra, or her ability to hide her emotions had vastly improved. Catra’s gaze slid sharply to the side as she felt Angella’s eyes on her--of course she did--and Angella gave her a small nod and a gentle smile. Catra started slightly, eyes darting away, before returning the small smile with a somewhat flustered expression.

 

Angella’s heart ached. This girl was so painfully unfamiliar with even the slightest signs of affection.

 

She cleared her throat, silencing the pre-meeting murmur of conversation. “Be seated, please. The council is called to order.”

 

The meeting itself was largely uneventful, aside from the news of Shadow Weaver’s demise. Angella glanced around the table, trying to observe the reaction of the two girls without making her gaze too obvious. Catra’s tail twitched behind her at the words, her head facing forward but her eyes on the girl seated at her side. Adora, for her part, appeared to have no reaction at all--her gaze fixed resolutely at some point on the battle map spread across the table. A muscle in her jaw tensed, but that was all.

 

Hm.

 

Adora remained mostly silent for the remainder of the meeting, the crease between her brows slowly deepening.

 

*

 

Angella tried to make her way toward the girls after the meeting adjourned, but it seemed that every individual in the room had a “critical matter” that needed her “immediate input” this morning. In reality, most of the matters could have-- _should_ have--been handled by her subordinates. She was in the middle of informing yet another person of this when she noticed the two girls finally standing from their seats to leave the meeting room. Catra jumped suddenly, hair fluffing slightly as she clasped an arm around her middle and Adora looked to her in surprise--and then laughed, grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the room while saying something about breakfast.

 

Angella suppressed a smile at their antics. This might not be an easy time, but at least they had each other.

 

*

 

A short while later, Angella rounded a corner on her way to the kitchens and was surprised to find Adora standing alone before the mural of the first princess alliance.

 

“Adora,” she greeted, surprise coloring her tone. “I thought you would be in the kitchens with Catra?”

 

Adora gave a small smile of greeting, then returned her gaze up to the mural. “I told her I’d catch up.” There was a strange tenseness to her shoulders, and the hand at her side flexed like she was making a conscious effort not to ball it into a fist.

 

Somehow, Angella knew that this frustration was not directed toward her.

 

Angella nodded, looking up to the mural as well. The likeness of her husband towered above her. The face was blank, stylized, but she always felt a familiar warmth from it. Like he was there, smiling down at her. It was no wonder she often found her way here while wandering the castle halls at night.

 

“She tried to use him, too,” Adora said quietly, staring up at Micah’s likeness. “Shadow Weaver.”

 

Angella inhaled, exhaled. “Yes.”

 

“Just like she tried to use me. Us,” Adora amended.

 

Angella nodded sadly. Adora sighed, sliding down the wall opposite the mural to sit on the floor. Her head was down, now, knees to her chest, shoulders curled forward. Angella quietly sat next to her.

 

“I should hate her,” Adora said with quiet fervor. “I _do_ hate her. Ever since I realized how she really treated Catra when we were growing up, how she manipulated both of us her entire life--I’ve spent spent so long hating her. But now...” she paused, her voice trailing off into something frustrated, angry, broken. “Now all I can remember are the good things, or the things I _thought_ were good. And instead of hating her, I hate myself.” Adora’s hand tightened into a fist at her side, then slammed into the ground so hard that Angella wasn’t sure if she was more afraid of Adora’s hand breaking or the stone. Her fist stayed there, clenched, trembling. “I know she never really cared. I _know_ all she wanted was to use me. But when I remember her teaching me how to read, how to tie my boots, telling me stories--” she huffed a brief, wet laugh--”even if they _were_ scary enough to keep me up all night--I... I forget.” Her fist trembled again, muscles in her forearm straining as though she was trying to drive it through the stone floor. “I shouldn’t forget.”

 

Angella reached for her hand, slowly, gently pulling it up from the floor. Adora’s muscles resisted, then gave way. One at a time, she gently unfurled Adora’s fingers from their tight fist, revealing deep indentations from her fingernails that almost broke the skin of her palm. Adora barely flinched when Angella’s thumb passed over her knuckles, which were already starting to deepen in color from angry red to bruised purple. She gently folded Adora’s hand between her own.

 

“You’ll love many people in your life, Adora,” she said, quietly. “Not all of them will deserve that love, but that doesn’t make you a fool for giving it.”

 

Tears fell from Adora’s eyes, hot with guilt, anger, and grief.

 

“How could I ever love someone who was such a monster?” Her voice was wet and shaking. “I… If I did, I would be just as bad as--as…”

 

Angella’s heart broke for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “Loving someone will never make you a monster,” she said with gentle firmness. “She doesn’t define you. She never has, and she never will. You are so much more than her, now.” She brought up a hand to Adora’s hair, then stopped short and wrapped it around her shoulders instead. “You both are.”

 

Tears fell faster from Adora’s eyes, and then she turned her face into Angella’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her in a surprisingly strong embrace.

 

“Shh,” Angella murmured, gently returning the embrace and rubbing a comforting hand up and down Adora’s arm. “It’s all right.” She closed her eyes to keep her own tears at bay. “It’s all right.”

 

*

 

When Adora returned to her room some time later, the first thing she saw was Catra standing on her balcony, drumming her fingers on the low wall. She stopped as soon as she saw Adora.

 

“ _There_ you are!” Catra exclaimed. “Geez, I thought you got kidnapped or something. There’s probably still some food in the kitchen, if you want it. No bacon, though. Someone ate all of it. Definitely not me.”

 

Adora laughed on her way over, and the sound was only a little unsteady. “Whatever you say, bacon-breath.”

 

“Wow. Rude.” Catra gave her an intent once-over despite her joking tone, her concerned gaze lingering on Adora’s face. Adora glanced away self-consciously and wiped at her nose with her sleeve before joining Catra to leaning on the balcony wall.

 

There was a silence as they both stared across the water. Adora felt Catra’s eyes glancing in her direction.

 

“You okay?” Catra asked, softly.

 

Adora gave a shaky sigh. “Yeah.” Catra narrowed her eyes, but Adora continued. “I ended up talking to Angella. I didn’t mean to, it just… kind of happened.”

 

“Huh.” There was a pause, and Catra’s mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to decide whether to speak. “I talked to her last night,” she said, eventually. “It… helped.”

 

Adora glanced up in surprise. “You did? Good. That’s… good. I’m glad.”

 

Catra’s tail swished self-consciously.

 

“She’s weirdly kind of good at this stuff, huh,” Adora said.

 

“Yeah. She’s... not too bad. For a queen.”

 

Adora smiled, leaning in to nudge Catra’s shoulder with her own. “You like her.”

 

Catra flushed. “No, I don’t.”

 

“Yes, you do.” Adora continued as Catra opened her mouth to protest. “It’s okay, I like her, too.” Catra looked away. “Glimmer’s pretty lucky.”

 

“Yeah,” Catra admitted. “I guess we got pretty lucky too, in the end.”

 

“Yeah.” Adora leaned close enough to press shoulder against Catra’s, enjoying the feeling of warmth filtering through the sleeve of her shirt.  “Yeah, we did.”

 

“I’m sorry, you know,” Adora said quietly, voice thick with emotion. “For how she treated you. I should have seen it so much earlier.”

 

Catra’s tail flicked. “Yeah, I know,” she said. “You’ve only apologized about a hundred times since I joined the Rebellion.”

 

“Still. I’m sorry.”

 

“Forget it, Adora. It’s not your fault you’re dumb.” The corner of Catra’s mouth was curled in a teasing smirk.

 

“Hey!” Adora objected, despite feeling a mischievous smile of her own spread across her face. She shoved Catra, who stumbled a half step away.

 

“It’s part of your charm,” Catra teased, rapidly regaining her balance. “Good-natured, strong, and stupid. Kind of like a cart horse.”

 

“I _will_ push you off this balcony.”

 

Catra laughed at the empty threat, resuming her former place leaning on the balcony wall with her shoulder brushing Adora’s. They stared across the woods, silent, watching the bright midday light filter through the clouds and glitter like gemstones on the surface of the water that stretched between the castle and the trees beyond.

 

“I mean it, though.” Adora said quietly. “The apology,” she scrambled to clarify, “not that I would push you off the balcony.”

 

Catra scoffed lightly. “I know.”

 

Silence for another moment. Catra’s tail brushed against Adora’s leg in an unconscious sign of affection. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

 

There was silence again. Catra gave a long sigh.

 

“She really was a piece of shit, you know?”

 

“Yeah. But she was our piece of shit.” Adora sighed. “It’s hard to get past that.”

 

Catra didn’t respond, just swallowed and continued staring forward. Adora lifted her arm, wrapping it around Catra’s shoulders.

 

“But we will.” She tightened her arm around Catra’s shoulders. “Together.”

 

“Yeah,” Catra said, finally letting herself relax into Adora’s half-embrace and looping an arm around her waist. “Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Veilder for being a champ and betaing for me! Love ya.
> 
> I wanted to get this out for Mother's Day and I BARELY made it, lol. 15 minutes to go in my timezeone. For everyone who has a hard time with this holiday... much love to you. <3
> 
> Thanks for reading! As always, please let me know if you liked it! <3


End file.
